by Katherine M. Searle
Davenport Community School District
for publication in the Urban Education Network Newsletter
©Katherine M. Searle
As educators, we
have been schooled to accept the decree that all students can learn if and
when teachers and support staff find the magical delivery system that fits
the needs 
exhibited
at any given moment. Sounds pretty basic. Factor in a stint of living at
the Salvation Army Shelter. Factor in a parent who'd rather hit than listen.
Factor in a comprehensive family history of poverty and illiteracy. Factor
in a defeatist attitude honed throughout the educational experience. Factor
in a neighborhood steeped in blaming the system. Factor in a flagrant distrust
and contempt of authority. Factor in an inability to interact in socially
acceptable ways. The picture begins to develop. Initially, the uniqueness
of the urban student seems tied to a catalog of negatives too ingrained
to be significantly affected by teachers and school.
Not so. Yes,
the urban student is a challenge, but the rewards in meeting that challenge
are sweet. To that end, each urban student must be considered as an individual.
To lump such students together with generalizations, however well meaning,
is to lose the chance to be an effective teacher. Square pegs in round holes
don't always want to become round to fit. Urban students expect the holes
to become square. Being able to "honor" the unique quality each
student brings to the educational process while tempering it is a difficult
balancing act that requires more energy and passion from the teacher than
from the student.
As an English teacher, I try to find opportunities to respect what an urban student
knows. In
the process, I learn. After reading a story about a neighborhood which honors
native heroes by creating a mural, I combined a previous letter writing
lesson with a real-life situation. Students had to work in groups to brainstorm
perceived neighborhood problems. The final product was a persuasive letter
written to neighbors urging them to work together to solve problems like
litter, loud parties, speeding, run-down property, drug houses, and gang
activity. Students who had previously done haphazard work generated detailed
work plans to clean up the neighborhood, created sign-up sheets and posters,
and designed tee-shirt logos on the computer for specific neighborhoods.
Had I not given that assignment, I would never have seen the organizational skills, the
tact in explaining why the neighborhood should be cleaned up, and the highly
developed sense of pride held by the entire class. Students were proud of
the products they created. They did extra work because they were engaged
with the outcome. During the course of the activity, I saw students who
previously had not gotten along work together to reach a desired end. Quiet
students who had not done much of anything took charge of a small group
and kept everyone on task. Given the chance to demonstrate what they could
do, these students did just that. The likelihood of their continuing to
meet my expectations is great because they have experienced success on a
variety of levels.
Dealing with the urban student is not always that easy or that rewarding. A roller coaster ride of ups
and downs is the rule. One boy wrote a gritty 3-page poem which I'm sure
detailed his home life "hidden" behind a persona he created. I
was touched by what I read and shared it with several teachers and support
staff. Those adults spoke to the boy and praised his writing talent. The
change I saw in class was nothing short of miraculous. He wrote another
poem in class but didn't have time to use the computer. I typed his poem
at home, adding a graphic. I gave him a copy and submitted his poem to a
poetry contest. The beatific smile on his face said it all. In the flush
of success, I thought no more problems here. That lasted until I asked him
to pick up a piece of paper for me. The vituperative harangue that followed
told me how wrong I was. I used that "argument" to explain/model
social skills, but in the heat of the moment, it was wasted. Regardless,
that student knows he can do something well. He has continued to write on
his own and sometimes shares pieces with me. We can get past each outbreak
of misdirected anger.
Over the years,
I've taught a number of female urban students whose contempt for me has
seemed unparalleled. How could I possibly know anything about
their lives. They took one look at my white, middle class exterior, turned
up their noses, and closed their hearts against
me. One girl in a fit of anger screamed, "I bet you have your own washer
and dryer." To her and her friends, those possessions marked the dividing
line that guaranteed our experiences would never mesh in a way that could
allow me to teach them anything. I patiently explained that
the washer and dryer were anniversary gifts from my father because I couldn't
afford them at that time. Still, I had a father who would spend
that kind of money on a married daughter. In my naivete, I'd only made matters
worse.
Through repeated attempts to get these students to write for me, we gradually arrived
at a delicate truce. They would not throw desks at me if I shared my life
with them via comments on their papers. They couldn't put the exterior together
with the fact that I'd grown up the child of an alcoholic mother. They had
trouble believing that my fancy jewelry was a legacy from my mother's suicide.
Because I had been willing to put myself on the line, dialogue had been
opened. Truly teaching an urban student means taking personal risks. These
students feel their private business is written all over them. Leveling
the playing field by being honest goes a long way toward breaking down the
barriers that often cause an insurmountable, adversarial relationship in
the classroom.
The examples I have discussed come from my own classroom because I feel it's important
to note how much impact the classroom teacher can have. However, there are
a number of
programs at J. B. Young Intermediate that deal with the urban student. Young
Intermediate houses the Health Initiative, an on-site medical screening
program; the Rape/Assault Program; a juvenile court liaison officer; a breakfast
club sponsored by CAD's; mentoring; tutoring; Puppeteers; and the Family
Service Center, a program which helps families connect with social service
agencies and provides extra-curricular educational opportunities such as
a career awareness club that studies a business and eventually "works"
on the premises. The school is part of the Iowa Behavioral Initiative and
uses the Boystown model. Many good things come out of these varied programs
which are supported by staff members, students, and families.
However, for the urban student, these programs are just one more indication that they
are somehow lacking in what everyone else has. They need a personal connection
from someone who doesn't see them in the capacity of "urban student"
and who doesn't represent an agency geared to solving urban problems. Although
I have used the phrase "urban student" repeatedly, I don't think
in those terms. It is likewise important that urban students don't apply
those very limiting and inherently negative connotations to themselves.
To that end, the classroom teacher has a responsibility to approach each
student without labels. "What's in a name?" you might ask. Very
simply--success or failure.
Comments or questions, E-mail
Katherine Searle at searlek@mail.davenport.k12.ia.us
